


but in this jungle you can't run

by st_elsewhere



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Fuckbuddies, HEAR ME OUT jordan and i think adam has TITS, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Slight feminization, and jordan is obsessed, can't embed THE pic because i'm on the phone which sucks, inspired by a pic of adam's torso (and tits hmmm), thank you everyone for the support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_elsewhere/pseuds/st_elsewhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>adam doesn't have <i>tits.</i> clearly jordan has lost his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but in this jungle you can't run

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"you've got nice tits, ads."

of all things jordan could've said to him during a group shower—where studge and james and phillipe _and_ dejan are just a few feet away—him having tits surely not one in his euphoric mind. they just practiced penalty, for god's sake. adam got perfect five tries out of five. where does his tits have anything to do with his a hundred percent rate of success?

no, wait.

 _i don't have bloody tits!_ adam protests in silent, looking down at his soapy chest. suddenly he doesn't feel like going to nando's with jordan anymore. the younger man has lost his mind. his chest is normal looking, really. nothing 'titty' about it!

"nothing 'titty'? that's cute." jordan smirks, and for once he doesn't look handsome like usual. "take a good look, ads. you have, like, round pecs. rounder than most lads i've known. i haven't told you this, have i?" jordan tones down his voice, shuffling closer until he's facing adam's cubicle. grumbling, adam leans in towards his best friend's wet mouth.

"ya know, when i hold you up against the wall and you're bouncing to meet my thrust, your pecs jiggle i swear to god. they jiggle ups and downs like small tits. i love it."

adam chokes and gets water into his nose. he splutters for a moment while jordan turning off his shower and smacking his back none too gently.

"are you mad?!" adam swats jordan's hand away, also none too gently. his nose hurts and he ignores jordan's barely there pout because what the hell??

jordan shrugs, shuffling back under his own running shower.

"if i score against manc this sunday, will you let me fuck them? your tits?"

"jordan!" adam flushes, scandalized and confused. it's true that they have been screwing since around last winter, mostly mutual hand-jobs and adam on his knees swallowing every inch of jordan's ( _thick_ and veiny and honestly the most beautiful, but no need to tell jordan that) cock, and that one time jordan squeezing adam's legs shut tight and managed to insert his thick, veiny, beautiful cock in between and adam had come from jordan pseudo-fucking him without a help at all. they screw around on away weeks but they never fuck, and this sudden, slight feminization is irking adam not in a lust-filled way.

no.

"that a yes, ads? because nothing is stopping me from scoring against manc and fucking your tits." jordan asks again, shameless, and he even has the gut to gesture at adam's FUCKING CHEST with his lust-filled, pretty blue eyes.

adam turns away from the predatory look and hisses, "i'm not coming to nando's with you and emre is driving me home. goodbye!"

 

 

 

✖️

 

 

 

adam can't believe his eyes. jordan was a fucking _mess_ at penalty practice yet he's the one scoring a beautiful penalty that eventually leads them a win against manchester united at anfield. home.

adam still remembers what's going to happen as jordan promised him in the shower just a few days ago.

the left side of his chest tingles at the memory.

klopp is buying the first round, and everyone cheers so loudly the walls of the locker room are shaking. adam feels like walking in the clouds, partly because they win against their biggest rival and mainly because jordan hasn't said a single word to him that's hinting of what he wants to do to adam later on. jordan keeps his distance and he's the star of the night anyway. adam could refuse; he could say _no please don't call my chest tits_ or reminding jordan that they don't screw on home weeks, but the problem is, adam is so, so _proud_ of his not-boyfriend for scoring a winning penalty they all needed.

he feels like rewarding jordan because jordan deserves it.

adam jumps when a pair of sweaty, hairy arms are engulfing him in a warm back-hug.

jordan, the pervert, cups both of adam's pecs and kneads them.

"you coming?"

adam rolls his eyes.

"you're obsessed." he huffs, shrugging off the taller man and jabbing a finger to where jordan's heart is. "but yes, i'm coming. gotta keep an eye for my chauffeur tonight."

"i'm wounded." jordan catches adam's finger and opens his mouth to bite it. adam giggles and pulls away, but not before bonking jordan on the head.

"gross boyfriends alert!" studge yells and the rest of the team answers with a hoot. somehow they invented this childish 'code' for when adam and jordan are 'being extra lovey dovey on public' to which jordan had retorted; _foreplay is important, kids_ —shameless as always, not to mention stupid, just like this one,

"what can i say, ads loves it when i bite." and adam has to punch jordan hard on the shoulder for the unnecessary fact. he _does_ love it when jordan's sharp incisors sink into his skin, goddammit!

 

 

 

"typical england weather."

adam jerks awake when jordan parks his suv in the spacious garage of his home. it's been raining for a couple of hours, and it takes twenty minutes longer for jordan to drive under influence of a bottle of beer. in the end, it was adam who drank too much. jordan doesn't need to know that he _needs_ the alcohol if he's going to let _him_ fuck his tits. fine. they're tits. adam could feel them jiggling when he danced with philippe to a calvin harris song and he had felt _sexy_ , if that was even possible.

"hey, mate. wakey wakey, we've arrived." jordan uses his knuckles to stroke adam's neck, gently like always whenever there's just the two of them.

adam takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. jordan's garage is lit dimly, the suv is warm and smells like the ocean, and adam is drunk, remember?

he unfastens his seatbelt groggily, and jordan exclaims a quiet whoa as he climbs to his cold lap.

"oofs." jordan fumbles with his own seatbelt and adam smiles when the offending lifesaver is tucked away. he leans his back to the steering wheel, arms loose around jordan's neck, knees folded but spread and crotch snug on top of jordan's.

"hi," he hums, placing a brief kiss to jordan's smiling mouth. good. adam can take smug smiles, but he swears to god he will stop if jordan so much smirks at him.

"hey, you're drunk." jordan places both hands on adam's hips. no, wait, let adam rephrases that; jordan's big, big hands are splayed on his hips, right above the frayed white sweater that jordan loves. beyond that, adam is wearing a size-too-small black zara, his trusted go to clubbing shirt.

"doesn't matter," adam breathes through his mouth and doesn't miss the glassy look jordan is giving it. "just kiss me."

jordan listens to him when they're like this; raw and real, two men comfortably exchanging fluids and wordless affection. it's always been so easy with jordan, be it on or off the pitch. jordan told him he had never been with a man before, and adam confessed that he had experiences. they still score women, even nearly had a threesome at the beginning after the holiday break, but adam bailed out because he didn't want to complicate things, or bullshit, like jordan had said with an easy laugh.

jordan's kisses are often so sweet and unhurried. he takes his time to coax reaction from adam until adam is all gooey and pliant, ready for more. his sharp incisors leave tiny cuts on adam's bow-shaped lips, and adam wouldn't want it any other way to go to training worrying newly formed thin tissues, and getting jolts of arousal every now and then.

adam presses his knees to the leather of the driver's seat, rolling his hips to meet with jordan's. the fabric of their jeans and underwear are causing half-hearted frictions, knowing that adam wants this to last. adam tilts his head, opens his mouth wider, and jordan licks his way inside, stroking adam's tongue with his.

jordan's big, big hands are mapping adam's ass and spine. and then they stay on adam's ass, squeezing, guiding adam to get closer, grinding harder. adam complies, moaning when jordan's cock slowly starts to fill up, hardening against his. their languid move is rehearsed thanks to their previous sessions. this one is new; they have never tried doing it in a car. too risky.

"ads—" jordan groans when their lips separate with a loud smooch. he wastes no time to push adam a little bit so his hands can ruck up the hem of adam's white sweater and black zara, exposing his torso, the angel tattoo, and his tits. the cold air hits the perky nipples, and adam lets out an inaudible _ahh_.

jordan's palms are hot against his skin.

"see these?" jordan murmurs to himself as his thumbs circles the outer dark rings, not yet touching the interested buds. his hot palms are burning adam's tits, anchoring them almost possessively.

adam feels the tell-tale of arousal tingling on his lower belly.

"see what?" adam finds his voice, but jordan doesn't answer him with words.

he answers with his _teeth_.

adam's breath hitches as jordan _bites_ his right nipple; his warm tongue playing with the bud. jordan sucks, pushes with his nose, and he's trapping adam between the steering wheel and his body, thrusting his hips up against adam's, his free hand giving adam's left tit the attention it needs.

adam takes it all. he grasps the headrest of the driver's seat, pushing back to jordan's hips and teeth. he keeps a hand on jordan's nape as a leverage while he drowns himself in the pleasure. he throws his head back, his throat working on quiet moans as he spurts out precome in his briefs. jordan's hips stilled, and adam moans when jordan scratches his blunt nails to the hollow of his lower back.

"we should go to my room," jordan says, licking his way down from adam's right nipple to his bellybutton, _chewing_ on the skin, then going up again to lick adam's left nipple.

adam's tits and cock are _throbbing_.

"yeah." he manages to agree despite his ongoing arousal and jordan turns off the ignition, opens the driver's door, helps adam to steady his wobbly legs, and adam clings to jordan's shoulders; walking on his tippy toes, letting jordan drag him like a debauched doll and hey! hey that's a perfectly big, comfy couch!

"couch~~~" adam sing-songs, tugging at jordan's black bomber jacket. "lessdo it on the couch!" he untangles himself from jordan's support and flings his body to the bouncy grey couch. he moans when his crotch makes contact with a cushion.

"nnnghhh..." adam is drunk. he's expected to hump a cushion, right?

"imma get the lube, yeah, ads?" jordan says from somewhere, probably laughing at him. "be good and take off your clothes, will ya?"

adam does as he's told immediately. he unbuttons his jeans first, struggling to get the skintight material off, only to have it stuck on his casual armani shoes. kicking them off, he toes off the rest of his jeans and briefs, sighing at the living room's temperature. the white sweater comes off next, then the black zara. naked and horny, adam falls back on the couch, propping his head with two cushions. he hooks his left leg on the back rest, spits to his right hand, and lazily strokes his half-hard but already leaking cock.

jordan curses from somewhere near.

adam thumbs at the slit of his cock, smearing precome to the head, cupping his balls with the other. jordan is on him in a second, hairy chest, arms, and long-mile legs are blanketing him.

jordan bites his left nipple, again, and adam keens.

"ah, _fuck_ ," he sobs, "i can't get used to th-this."

jordan takes over the hold on adam's cock, pressing his against it, and moves his hips. "why not?" he ask, his thick and veiny cock is sliding wetly against adam's. he's using adam's favorite water-based lube from the slick but not sticky feel of it.

adam leans up to kiss jordan, raising his right knee up to his chest for better angle then folding it on top of jordan's back, locking them.

jordan kisses back with just as much vigor, his free, big hand is pinning adam's wrists above his head, tightening the fingers as his thrusts are getting faster.

"i mean—" adam gasps for breath. "my tits make me feel good. so good."

"heh." jordan licks the underside of adam's jaw, wetting the beard, sucking a hickey on the junction of adam's neck and shoulder. he lets go of adam's wrists to cradle adam's back, and adam follows the pull so he's sitting on jordan's lap; legs spread wide, cock ready to burst, tits getting sore from all the biting and sucking.

jordan stops stroking and kisses the corner of adam's mouth.

"let's try this again," he whispers, the rain outside muting him.

"anything." adam opens his mouth to welcome jordan's long, spidery fingers. he sucks three digits at once, lapping at the tips and sliding his tongue in between the gaps. jordan's pretty blue eyes are almost liquid black.

"turn around." jordan maneuvers adam's pliant body to his front, arranging him on his hands and knees. adam's cock hangs hard, the head is thisclose to touching the couch.

"don't spread your legs," jordan starts by keeping adam's smooth legs clasped. "i'm going to fuck your thighs, then i will cum on your tits."

"second thought on fucking my tits, then?" adam teases, not minding that he's the one in the wanton position.

"next time," jordan chuckles, slapping a playful hand on adam's ass.

adam's cock _and_ tits throb again.

jordan clicks open the lube. the squelching sound his cock makes is filthy, and adam thinks he wouldn't mind getting that cock inside next time. it's been awhile since he gets a proper cock in him, really. jordan's cock is thick and veiny and _big_ , remember?

jordan grunts. he shifts closer until the whole length of his wet and hard cock is snug against the crack of adam's ass. jordan slides his length, ups and downs, using his thumbs to spread adam's ass cheeks.

" _oh—_ " adam moans as jordan continues sliding his length but never pushing it in into his clenching hole. he would need a preparation, obviously, but at this rate of drunkenness and arousal, adam wouldn't even care.

just when adam gets his wit together to push back to jordan's length, jordan pulls away only to push in in between adam's clasped thighs.

like the one time before this, the wet head is struggling to fit in, and adam's whole body spasms when the lengths slides past and jordan's cockhead bumps against his filled balls.

" _ngh_ , fuck." jordan's fingers are gripping adam's hips. "should've fucked your ass instead, huh, ads?" he pushes in another inch and adam gasps when the back of his thighs meet jordan's equally filled balls.

"n-next time," adam moans as jordan's chuckle is sending sparks through his spine. "my tits await."

"jesus." jordan groans and presses even closer, and it's all instinct and primal needs. jordan's cock is still struggling to get in between adam's clasped thighs, but the effort is worth the way his cockhead pounding adam's cock. jordan moves his hands from adam's hips to hold onto adam's tits, squeezing and kneading and rubbing in rhythm with his hips, and adam can only taketaketake as he falls to his elbows, humping the couch in exchange of relief his either hands can't give. his tits are sore, tender-ish, and his nipples are erect and rubbed raw.

jordan gets a hand to adam's lower back, and then he sits on his knees, halting his thrusting hips to insert his index finger to adam's dry, empty hole.

"jord—" adam has fingered himself, he loves to stimulate his prostrate, but it's the matter of _who's_ fingering him that makes adam so greedy tonight. " _ah_." jordan pushes in up to his first knuckle, only dampened slightly by their sweat.

"yeah?"

"deeper—"

"fuck that's hot." jordan abruptly pulls away both his finger and cock and flips adam to his back. he kneels right on adam's chest and aims his cockhead to adam's left nipple. "i'm close," he growls as he strokes his cock in an alarming speed and adam strokes his own cock, teasing his hole and balls and jordan erupts with a long groan, his milky cum is decorating adam's tits and beard.

adam follows, spasming and moaning, gathering his cum in his palm to make a mess on his hole. it clenches around nothing but he gets some of his around the outer rim so that's okay.

jordan slumps on top of him, their chests are sticky with come and sweat. adam doesn't care. he hugs jordan's head and murmuring a thank you for scoring the winning penalty and for the good shag. jordan gropes for his ass and presses the same index finger into his wet hole and murmurs _we should move to my room for round two, see if i get to make you come only from my fingers and tongue, hm?_ and adam whines _only if you carry me upstairs._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> did you survive the pr0n?  
> because hands down i'm really essited for this one lmaoooooooooooooo *wriggle eyebrows*
> 
> unlike jordan i dun bite so pls pls comment don't be shy. every single one of you hendollana shipper inspires me. also kudos and adam lallana himself yasssssssss.
> 
> here have some couch pr0n: http://stevebuckypornlookalikes.tumblr.com/post/143224099321
> 
> ps. hope portugal wins yo.


End file.
